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Archive:Lucy Whelan
|} “I don’t think there is anything to celebrate in killing another living thing, Lucy,” my father said. “These fools — rich fools mostly, who do not have to work for what they own — who talk of war and honor, or glory and coin…. They’re not like us. If they had something they created to defend, maybe they would be different.” “Defense or not, I feel bad.” “I’m glad you do, lass. I’ve told you the story of our people, haven’t I?” I nodded. He had, many times. It was here, in the Highlands that human civilization took root; was born and found strength and prosperity. It was also here where that empire splintered, and so many left. Who stayed? Those who had invested the most, who cherished the walls of the city and found communion with a thankless and hard, rocky soil that broke plows and spat out granite rocks that had to be collected from the fields every planting season. Every year since I could walk I had carried those rocks until my hands felt swollen and numb. Despite this, many of those who called the land home stayed. Why? Because we understood the land, and it understood us. Those who had no attachment simply left, and our empire unraveled. Our attachment to the Highlands had only strengthened, though. “Then you understand,” my father said. “Let the foolish fight for honor or title, and let the morally bankrupt kill for coin or contempt of life. We fight for our land and our people, and those of us who are good hearted do so with reluctance and regret.” -- Shepherd's Daughter III Appearance I’ve always thought that life was divided into a handful of moments; a series of challenges or choices one must make. It is how we react to those moments — these personal trials of character — that determine how others see us, and, perhaps more importantly, how we see ourselves. For a long time, when I looked in the mirror I didn’t exactly like what I was seeing. It wasn’t the new, hard life I’d found myself living. I’d gotten use to the gaunt, skinny build and the ragged, knotted hair of living on the run. It was my face.; all bruised and old and feral. The face staring back at me was that of a stranger; of someone who lived life on a razor’s edge, who fought for a hopeless cause, and who left everything behind for the cause. I think I spent those years in the Highlands wondering if I’d made the wrong decision. -- Journal Description coming soon. Personality Introverted (I) 82.14% Extroverted (E) 17.86% Intuitive (N) 51.72% Sensing (S) 48.28% Feeling (F) 73.85% Thinking (T) 26.15% Judging (J) 78.79% Perceiving (P) 21.21% Your type is: INFJ "Free Jung Personality Test." Personality Test Site. Similar Minds.com. Web. 10 June 2010. INFJs are conscientious and value-driven. They seek meaning in relationships, ideas, and events, with an eye toward better understanding themselves and others. Using their intuitive skills, they develop a clear vision, which they then execute decisively to better the lives of others. Like their INTJ counterparts, INFJs regard problems as opportunities to design and implement creative solutions. INFJs tend to be sensitive, quiet leaders with a great depth of personality. They are intricately and deeply woven, mysterious, and highly complex, sometimes puzzling even to themselves. They have an orderly view toward the world, but are internally arranged in a complex way that only they can understand. Abstract in communicating, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. With a natural affinity for art, INFJs tend to be creative and easily inspired. Yet they may also do well in the sciences, aided by their intuition.“INFP.” Wikipedia. 11 June 2010. . Description coming soon. History They’ve called us “war babies.” I suppose it makes sense given that it was my generation that was not only born in the terrible time of the Orc invasion of our lands, but who paid witness to the rise of the dead and the collapse of humanity’s northern lands. We are, in a sense, book ended by conflict and destruction. The thing I wonder, in the philosophical sense, is whether or not there is some sense of order when all of this is finished. Certainly, there was order in my youth, and even a righting of the ship in terms of prosperity. In an era where rivers of blood flow I wonder if there is any going back for my generation. Are we doomed to fight on forever, even should we defeat our enemies? I like to think there’s a home and order and a future of peace for me when Alterac is expelled from the Highlands and all is right in the wider world. Is there? -- Journal History also coming soon. Other Information It was my mother who taught me to love music; to dance and to make use of my mediocre talent. She was an incredible musician, and I fervently believe that she gave up a promising career to settle down with my father and raise a family. Still, she played nearly every night as the day finished and the sun set over the mountains. When I was older she taught me to play as well, and I still carry her old concertina amongst my things. I was never as good as she was, and I haven’t shared her intense passion. However, dancing is another thing altogether. It is, in a sense, a way to abandon all cares and all worries. Moving to the sound of the fiddle and the pipes and shaking your skirt until you’re winded and sweating, or dancing close with a slow, mournful tune on the harp and accordion. I met my husband at a dance, and I doubt he would have had a future with me could he not dance well. -- Journal Annnnnnnd also coming soon. Notes Category:Archived Characters